


Revolver

by levitatethis



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Community: oz_magi, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-26
Updated: 2012-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-30 04:32:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/327751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levitatethis/pseuds/levitatethis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dead are walking the earth and Keller and Beecher’s relationship is, as usual, in a state of flux.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revolver

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lisacali](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisacali/gifts).



> Prompt: Beecher/Keller, pillow talk (with snark if possible)

 

 

“I knew you’d find me.”

“Mmmm,” Chris murmurs, the rumble reverberating against Toby’s cheek pressed to his chest.  Eyes closed, Chris drifts fingers through Toby’s hair and sinks into the haze of heat and sweat that clings to them like a second skin.

After a few minutes, Toby adds, “I hoped you would,” as if shaking off the unintended saccharine idealism dripping from his initial declaration.

Knowing a response is demanded Chris says, “I would have thought you’d forgotten about me.”  He knows as soon as the words are out that Toby’s going to snatch onto them with too much emotion.  There’s a bit of cruel intent there.  He gets tired of having to analyze and justify everything to make Toby feel better, wishing instead that Toby would learn to shut his fucking brain off once in awhile and enjoy being in the moment.  As it is, Chris can play this needling game too.

On cue Toby lifts his head and looks at him all deep (hurt) lines and moody (surprised) eyes.  “Not possible,” he states unequivocally and Chris smirks, pushing Toby’s head back to his chest.

Toby quietly grumbles at the joke—god knows no one can forget Chris once they’ve crossed paths with him.  All the same, it twists Chris’ heart something fierce to hear Toby so adamantly reiterate the fact.

 

 

 

**************  **********  **********  **********  ************ **

 

 

 

Chris stretches out, feeling the rewarding crack of his limbs slipping into place.  The coolness of the sheets whispers he’s been alone for some time.  He squints and rolls on his side and ends up staring at Toby who is standing by the window, gazing out at the hazy early light.

“It’s been too long since we last saw anyone else,” Toby says as if sensing Chris’ wakened state.

“That’s a good thing,” Chris yawns and roughly rubs his head.

Toby glances over his shoulder.  “It _was_ a good thing.  Now…” He looks outside again, leaning his left arm upright against the wall while settling his right hand on his hip.  “Maybe we should have gone the other way.”

“Jesus Christ,” Chris mutters and squeezes his eyes shut.  When he opens them Toby is watching him almost apologetically.  Chris props himself up on one elbow.  “It’s always back and forth with you.  You need to learn to stand by your decisions and see them through.”

“Because you’re so good at never letting the past get in the way?”

“Would you prefer I leave you to your own vices?  I can walk out at any time, Toby.  I’m a survivalist. I’ve learned to make due my whole life.  I said we should go south but you insisted on heading north because of some fucking cottage you used to go to with your folks and so here we are.  We’re not backtracking because you suddenly don’t know—,"

“I’m sorry that my follow through is not to your liking.  It’s not every day the dead start walking around trying to make snack-packs out of the living.  You’ll have to excuse me for trying to consider every scenario.”

Chris reconsiders letting his temper take over.  Besides, it’s not looking as if make-up sex is in the cards, not with the state Toby is in.  After all, it _is_ unsettling that they haven’t seen another living soul in weeks.  At the time Chris could bask in the fantasy of the two of them being the last men on earth fucking to their hearts content.  But there’s something to be said for living that way amongst society, the two of them part of the whole like some warped domestic love story.  And most importantly it would mean everyone seeing them together, knowing they can’t be broken, that they are two sides of the same coin, that they are one.

It’s so much easier when ignorance is bliss.

“Come back to bed, Toby.  Lie down, close your eyes, pretend you don’t have a care in the world.  Tomorrow we’ll figure out a plan.”

“What’s going to be so different tomorrow?”

“Besides the fact I won’t want to knock you unconscious?”

Toby shoots him a halfhearted smile wrapped in exasperation.  “Sweet talker.  Quite the poet, aren’t you?”

Chris extends his hand and beckons him over.  “You have a point about us not seeing anyone, okay?  Is that what you want to hear?  Fine, there it is.  But for tonight can we just tell the world to fuck off?”

There’s a momentary pause and then Toby takes the three steps over to the bed and fits his hand in Chris’.

 

 

 

**************  **********  **********  **********  ************ **

**  
**

 

“I don’t need you to protect me,” Toby insists, panic blistering through any pretend attempt at apathetic indifference as he kneels next to the bed between Chris’ legs.

“Says the man who’s a magnet for trouble,” Chris muses, hissing a sharp breath and gripping Toby’s shoulders with bruising force.

Toby rolls his eyes.  “I’m serious.”

“No shit,” Chris says.  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m the one bleeding to death.”

Unsurprisingly Toby doesn’t take kindly to the nonchalant bid for humour.  Not with Chris’ chest wound seeping through the dressing Toby has fit around his torso.  “Who told you to jump in between a zombie and a knife wielding vigilante,” Toby mutters drifting sad blue eyes from Chris down to the red spotted white bandage which he ghosts his fingertips across.

“I was thinking that if you were the one who got hurt not only would you not be putting out any time soon but I’d have to listen to you bitch non-stop.  Turns out that was going to happen anyway.”

Toby presses against the wound enough to elicit a sharp yelp of pain from Chris.  “Can you be serious for two seconds or is being a jackass part of the recovery process?”

Chris fixes a solemn expression in place.  Lifting Toby’s chin with one hand he says, “I did what I had to do.  I will _never_ let anything happen to you.  Never.  Do you understand what I’m saying?”

The honesty of the confession has Toby twist his lips the way he does when he’s fighting back tears.  It’s been a hell of a day.  Then Toby is leaning forward and kissing the wound and Chris’ mind jumps back in time to a whole other fucked up life and the parallels make him want to give the finger to God while basking in the devoted touch of the man he has loved above all others.

A knock at the bedroom door breaks the reverie and they both look up as Marie Zeutch peeks inside.  “How are you boys doing?”

“Fine,” they say simultaneously and she raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“It wasn’t a bite,” Toby says with a sigh.  “He’ll be fine.”

She doesn’t leave immediately but when they offer nothing more she gives them an appraising look and says, “Get some rest.  Grab something to eat.  We’re heading out at first light.  Firaz picked up a radio transmission with safe house coordinates.”  She closes the door.

Toby’s still staring at where she had been when Chris cups his cheek and redirects his attention.  “Forget them,” Chris says and fixes a grin in place.  “Looks like this war wound scored us the fancy digs for tonight.  Praise the gods.”

He pulls Toby into a kiss.

 

 

 

**************  **********  **********  **********  ************ **

**  
**

 

 

“Not exactly Utopia,” Toby observes sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing his face with both hands.

Chris nudges Toby’s shoulder with his own, ignoring the ache of his healing wound.  He rests his arms on his thighs, clasping both hands between spread legs, and stares at the closed door, the distant murmuring of agitated voices echoes off the walls.  He quickly eyes the semi-automatic next to him on the floral blanket.

“You think we should stay?” Toby asks with concern.

“Don’t know that we have much of a choice,” Chris comments, half distracted by a million thoughts racing this way and that.  With his peripheral vision he sees Toby turn his way.

“You think they’ll force us to stay?”

Chris shakes his head.  “Might try.  With the dead outnumbering the living some might think a powerful united front is the only way to survive.  Besides, with things the way they are I don’t know if we’re better off on our own just yet.”

The silence in the room strikes a sharp contrast with the muted argument raging on the other side of the door.

“Shit,” Toby mutters.

 

 

 

**************  **********  **********  **********  ************ **

**  
**

 

 

“No matter where we go there’s always a Schillinger type asshole.”

“And a fucking McManus like do gooder.”

“They’re gonna get us killed.”

“More like Mustafa will accidentally set it in motion and Raymond will happily pull the trigger.”

“So it’s like we never left Oz?”

“The food is better.”

 

 

 

**************  **********  **********  **********  ************ **

**  
**

 

 

Chris thrusts relentlessly against Toby.

Sweat drips from his face onto Toby’s back, drawing strips of wet lines down Toby’s flushed skin to where Chris’ fingers score bruising indentations into his hips.  Chris grunts and shifts, the new angle pushing him further into Toby whose head is pressed face forward into the pillow.  Chris hears the muffled groan and gasps from below and it spurs him on harder and faster until Toby has to brace himself by throwing his arms forward against the headboard to stop himself from getting slammed into it.

“Chris.”  The pillow swallows Toby’s voice.  Still it’s cracked against the soiled sheets and the stifling air in this bullshit excuse for a room and Chris breaks, coming hard and slumping forward, sending them both flat against the mattress.  A mingling of sweat and tears mar Chris’ face.

After a minute, Toby shifts slightly beneath him.  Chris pulls out but otherwise stays spread on top of him.  Stuck together—blood, tears, sweat, cum—with their bodies sounding out a matching rhythm of desperate then calming breaths, Chris struggles to take back control of his mind and the cascading thoughts threatening to march forward, the emotions on the verge of spilling forth inarticulately, revealing every which way he’s feeling out of control and struggling for solid ground.

“I’m sorry,” Toby chokes out quietly.  “I tried to get back to you.”

Chris shuts his eyes and kisses the back of Toby’s neck.  A part of him wishes Toby didn’t apologize because none of this is his fault.  But Chris can’t control the fuckers out there or the madness they’re dragging people into.  All he can do is show Toby his worry, concern, fright, anger, love, and hope— _know_ —Toby understands.

This can’t happen again.  People can’t just pull some invisible rank and not inform the group what’s going on.  They can’t take Toby away for some job and then not tell Chris where he is even after a night has come and gone and one day becomes two then three.

If something were to happen to him…

Chris won’t do this life without Toby.  He can’t.

He shifts his body to let Toby roll onto his back and curls up close to him, brushing Toby’s matted hair off his forehead, and thumbs tears off his face.   He sees Toby’s still hard, never came, and he wraps his hand around Toby’s cock.  Two pairs of blue eyes stare deeply into each other.  Toby trails his fingers lightly across Chris’ lips.  Chris slowly strokes him off.

 

 

 

**************  **********  **********  **********  ************ **

**  
**

 

 

It’s a cool night up on top of the world.

The apartment rooftop has become their haven. All it took was a stern glance, a hint of ‘crazy Toby’ and Chris cocking his third acquired gun for the others to get the message—no matter who rules the roost below the tenth floor, the roof is non-negotiable.

They found a futon in one of the abandoned suites and until they can find an upgrade it will suffice.  Throw on a couple of pillows and blanket and it’s a goddamn palace.

He watches Toby walk the perimeter, glaring down at what’s left of the city below.  Chris loves aggressive, in control, nearly possessed Toby.  He gets Chris’ blood coursing to all the right places.  Chris palms his cock through his jeans thoughtfully.  Laying his gun down on the ground next to the make-shift bed, he spreads out on his back, propping himself up on his elbows.

As soon as Toby’s calmed down he makes his way over, lays his own gun down, and straddles Chris’ thighs.  In a split second ‘don’t-fuck-with-me’ Toby dials back the aggression and relaxed, sweet, happy (well, as much as that’s possible considering everything) Toby appears.  Chris beams an electric grin as Toby crawls his body and claims his lips in a deep, breathtaking kiss.  Instinctively Chris wraps his arms around Toby, holding him tight, then rolls him over so they can both lie back and gaze at the night sky.

The serenity of sparkling white against a midnight black backdrop gives the false feeling of tranquility. But Chris is willing to take it for what it is.  Nights like this one are rare and when Toby takes hold of his hand and squeezes it affectionately Chris thinks maybe they can do this thing, make a life out of these scraps of normalcy.  He takes comfort in Toby’s voice riddled with excitement, soothing in its flow and for awhile he feels at peace.

He smiles into the night as Toby points out constellations and talks about the lights of stars only reaching earth now, hundreds of years after they’ve already died.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I know this deviates a bit from the prompt but I liked the idea of a a collection of private conversations between Beecher and Keller, all in chronological order, all in different bedrooms (of sorts), all connected by a vague, overarching zombie world.


End file.
